


Misplaced Emotions

by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)



Series: Memories Always Included [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (.....mostly), Agent Carolina & Agent Washington are Siblings, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sparring, York is understandably pissed at whoever made them think this way, again the yorkalina and connieton are platonic or romantic take your pick, bad ways of dealing with grief 101: taught by the Church Family, feeling guilty for things you have no control over, of a sort, post C.T.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F117_Nighthawk/pseuds/F-117%20Nighthawk
Summary: Post C.T. Apparently no one in the Church family knows healthy ways to deal with grief. York just wants them to not deal with it in a destructive way and then punch whomever made them think this was a normal way of dealing with grief.





	Misplaced Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> okay on the warnings: they beat each other up a LOT but it's not...gory so to me it doesn't fall under the graphic descriptions but im not exactly comfortable saying no warnings apply. there's also a small mention of child abuse but it didn't actually happen ~~well at least not like how it's mentioned. that's up in the air depends on your interpretation of the director.~~

Wash had no idea how long he had been wandering the halls of the _Invention_ when he ran into a very angry and very frustrated Carolina. He took one look at her and said “You, me, training room, now.”

Miraculously, she nodded and followed him. They stalked to the training deck in silence. This was a silence neither of them had experienced in a while, not since before Project Freelancer. This was something from their childhood, from fights with their father before either of them had learned it was useless, from fights with each other, from the dark days around their mother’s death. It was anger and pain and guilt all wrapped up together in a dark package where none of them could be differentiated.

The training deck was empty. “FILSS, setup for hand to hand training and lock the training room until one of us opens it.”

“Agent Washington, I cannot—”

“FILSS, just do it.”

“....acknowledged, Agent Carolina. Calibrating suits and environment for hand-to-hand.”

The siblings squared off from across the room as their suits shifted and locked, setting up to spar with minimal damage to the participants.

“Calibration complete. How many rounds, Agents?”

“As many as needed,” Wash growled.

“Round one begin.”

They circled each other for a moment before Wash burst into motion. He whipped a roundhouse to Carolina’s stomach, who blocked it easily but missed the fact that that was exactly what he had expected and used the armor’s enhanced strength to rechamber the leg and bring a snake kick up into her armpit. She hissed and stepped forward as she pivoted, slamming a fist into Wash’s side. He yelped and brought his foot down hard on hers as he ducked a shot to his head and barreled into her. They both fell over but Carolina used the opportunity to throw him to the side. He landed next to her on his back and blocked a fist to his face, threw one out to hit hers, then blocked a shot to his solar plexus. He rolled away onto his feet at the same time as her and they ended up right back where they started.

Carolina came flying at him with a supercharged kick to the groin which he barely managed to block in time. He backpeadled away from her flurry of blows to his head and stomach before he managed to sidestep a kick that she misjudged her balance on, helping her fall along with a strong reverse crescent to her back. The extra momentum sent her sprawling to the floor, but she managed to turn over and get her eyes up before he could descend on her. She got her arms up to protect her head and blocked every punch he made. She attempted to throw him off but he slid forward slightly and managed to get a punch beyond her arms to her head. Growling in pain, she flashed out a palm strike to his chin which he only just managed to miss blocking, snapping his head back and allowing her enough leverage to throw him off her again. He got to his feet in record time while she was still on her knees. She blocked his feint to her head and got hit in the knee, throwing her just off balance enough that he managed to hit her in the head with a follow up roundhouse.

“Round one, Agent Washington.”

“Lucky shot,” she gasped, standing up.

“Maybe.”

“Round two, start.”

* * *

“Hey, South, have you seen Wash or Carolina?”

“Nah, haven’t seen them since you got back.”

York sighed. “You sure? We’ve been back for almost thirty six hours, someone must have seen them in the mess hall or something by now.”

“Well,” South drawled, “why are you looking for them?”

“Because Carolina was...very upset and I need to make sure she’s not killing someone right now and Wash is the only person other than me capable of calming her down.”

South snorted. “Are you sure _you’re_ capable of _calming_ her?”

“South, now is not the time.”

She waved him off and walked away. “Good luck, loverboy.”

York huffed and crossed his arms. South had been his last idea. Wyoming, North, Florida, and Maine had been no help, he’d even asked a few of the grunts but no one had seen either of them since they’d gotten back. He _really_ needed to find them.

His only consolation was no one had been rushed to the infirmary yet. Emphasis on _yet._

He wandered in the general direction of the Freelancer’s quarters, hoping to run across _someone_ with knowledge of Carolina and Wash’s whereabouts. The only person he ran into was not the best choice. Texas was leaning against the wall somewhere around the Freelancer’s common room, tapping on a datapad. “Oh, hi, Texas.”

“York,” she nodded, not looking up from whatever she was doing.

“You don’t, uh, you don’t happen to have seen either Wash or ‘Lina since we got back?”

She looked up at him. “They were both walking towards I think the training room a while ago.”

He groaned and let his head fall. Of _course_ they had somehow circled back to where he had started looking for them. “Thanks.”

“If you’re going to go find them, I suggest caution. They both had this weird aura around them, almost seemed like they were going to kill each other.”

He blinked. They could get mad at each other, yes, but as far as he knew they had never gotten to that point. They had always managed to work it out before it got to the point where they wanted to kill someone. Things might have been worse than he thought. What were they even angry at each other abo—oh, CT. “I’ll hurry then. See ya around, Texas.” He jogged off in the direction of the training deck without waiting for a reply.

When he got there the door didn’t open. “FILSS, open the door.”

“I am sorry, Agent York, I cannot do that at the moment. Agents Carolina and Washington have ordered me not to open it until they are done.”

Growling, York ran up the stairs to the observation deck and was taken aback by the scene in front of him. The scoreboard on the wall read 10-10 and they were still going. Going _hard._ What in the _hell_ were they doing? Were they _actually_ trying to kill each other? “FILSS, patch me in down there.”

“I am sorry, Agent York, lockdown procedures prevent me from opening a comm to the training room.”

He punched the console. “Delta! Help me out here!”

The AI materialized in the air above the console. “Protocol dictates I cannot—”

“Just _open the comm_ before I go open that door myself, Delta.”

“I can open audio up here, however it will take me a moment to patch you in to down there.”

“Yes! Fine! Just get it so I can communicate with them!”

* * *

Carolina threw a sloppy punch that Wash easily blocked. He could tell they were both tired, reaching the breaking point, and sooner or later one of them was going to miss some important strike and get hurt. Past experience suggested it was going to be him. Good. He kicked at her knees and succeeded in dropping her to one, but she thrust a hand out and he didn’t manage to block it before she hit him in the groin. Gasping in pain he dropped to his knees but managed to whip a strike out at her head which she barely managed to block. He punched at her stomach which she blocked and moved his arm in the way of his own follow up, causing him to punch himself in the arm. She managed to stand and kick at his head, but he rolled under it and pulled her down to the ground after him. He straddled her and punched; she was barely able to get her arms in his way. With an audible growl she flipped him off her, in the way he _should_ have been prepared for but wasn’t.

Well, this was where he failed to block something important wasn’t it. For some reason she didn’t get on top of him and instead they both rolled to their feet, facing each other once again. He snapped out a front kick to her solar plexus, which connected and sent her stumbling backwards. Planting his foot down again he came around with as much body weight as he could and slammed a roundhouse into her ribs. She didn’t fall, but it was close. She gasped for breath and he slammed a shoulder into her, knocking her off her feet.

“Round twenty-one, Agent Washington.”

“What are you _doing?”_

“What do you mean, what am I _doing?”_ she gasped out.

“You’re not _fighting_ me! I should not have a higher score than you! Your not _focusing!_ You’re too wrapped up in your anger then _fine,_ but the _least_ you could do is _use it!_ Imagine I’m Texas or someone! Imagine I’m Dad for all I care but _give me a damn fight! Hurt me!”_

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you, Wash!” she stood up and tore her helmet off, expression beyond pissed.

_“Why the FUCK not?”_

“Because I’m not angry at you! I’m angry at Texas for fucking up! I’m angry at myself for fucking up! I’m angry because we failed the mission and failed to bring CT back!”

Wash tore his own helmet off, throwing it where Carolina had thrown hers. “Then how are you _not_ angry at me?! I was her _friend!_ I _saw_ the signs! I _saw_ her starting to cut herself off and I _didn’t understand!_ I could have _stopped_ this and we would have _never had_ to go on that mission! We wouldn’t have had to _kill her!_ So if anyone is at fault here it’s _me!_ If anyone deserves punishment for fucking up _it is me!”_

 _“How the fuck is any of this your fault?_ It is _not_ YOUR responsibility to lead this team and keep us together it’s _mine!_ _I_ failed her! _I_ failed to be the leader she needed! _I_ failed to keep her trust in this team and this project! I could have stopped this and she wouldn’t have _died!_ So if _anyone_ deserves punishment for fucking up it is _absolutely not you!”_

There was a screech of static that had both of them clapping their hands over their ears. “Alright, _what in the seven hells are you two doing?!_ Are you _beating each other up_ as some sort of comeuppance for losing CT? How is _getting your sibling to beat you up_ the “punishment” going through both your brains? I swear if your dad has been making you do this since you were kids, I don’t care how powerful he is or what ends up on my record I am going to kick him where it hurts _several times._ Now _stop your misguided attempts at unneeded penitence_ and _open the damn door_ or I’m going to have to pick it.”

“FILSS,” Carolina croaked, “rescind lockdown procedures and open the door for York.”

They stood, staring at each other for a moment before the door opened and York, not wearing his armor, stalked into the room. “I _repeat,_ what in the _seven hells_ were you two thinking? I came here expecting to have to calm _one_ of you down, not _both._ _Neither_ of you deserves punishment for this, okay? It is _neither_ of yours faults. CT made her own damn decisions, the least you can do is respect that. I know you’re both grieving but this? This is not how you handle that. So take a _deep breath_ and tell yourself that you are _not guilty.”_

Wash took a deep breath. He wasn’t guilty. That, felt like a lie. He was _always_ guilty. It was always somehow his fault. No matter what he did everything always ended up horrible. Every time he tried to ask anyone anything, every time he tried to help someone, every time he tried to do _anything._ How was CT being dead _not_ his fault? He could have helped, he could have talked to her, he could have done _something._ But he didn’t.

He pressed his palms to his eyes and took another breath. Objectively, he was not at fault here. CT had made her own decisions. There was no way him talking to her would have influenced anything. There was nothing he could have done.

He took another breath and opened his eyes. “Okay.”

Carolina nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” York said. “Now, how you _do_ handle grief is you talk about it, you eat some food, and you treat yourself. Self-care and all that. No more of this “I feel guilty so I’m going to get someone to beat me up” thing. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” they both answered.

“Before I drag you both to the mess hall and then the common room where we can lock everyone else out and watch movies until we all fall asleep, who’s idea _was_ this?”

“Mine,” Wash said.

“And may I ask _why?”_

He shrugged. “She needed to beat someone up, I needed to be beaten up.”

York kinda looked like he wanted to cry but also slap someone. “I am going to figure out what put that idea in your head and blow it up because _no._ Now come on, I think the mess is serving pancakes for dinner so we should get there early.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> all three of these are saved in my drive as "¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ # in order i wrote them" what does this mean? I have no idea. But I have now spent a whole day writing these because SNOW DAY on the FIRST DAY OF SPRING. yeaaaahhhhh
> 
> .....also i just realized I was probably using Wash to vent here oops.


End file.
